Silence fills the barrow. A tense silence, the kind produced by women considering a hundred horror stories from their childhood, weighing them on the mental scales, and coming to the conclusion that while they absolutely cannot start a fight, there's no need to say it out loud, just in case not saying it somehow produces an advantage in this knifematch of wits.

"So where are you headed?" Juniper asks, as Olesya casually cleans under her fingernails with a skinning knife.

"Nowhere much," Seli says, as Keli carefully considers at what point knockout powder mixed into wine becomes an attack, supernaturally speaking.

---

Cair!

The undead are gardeners.

Which isn't a complete surprise. The ones that are most intact have flowers sprouting from rents in their flesh, their scent sickly-sweet. The skeletons are more obviously puppets of vine systems, fruits rattling in their ribcages like organs. The light of the Poison Star glimmers in empty eye sockets. And everywhere, they are pulling up flooring and putting in earth. They pull treasures off shelves and use them to dig furrows; they let seeds fall through fingerbones in their wake.

At least they aren't sprouting with unnatural speed. Yet. But this is a concerted invasion and attempted subversion of the Stacks, and Heron, once again, just to underline this, isn't here. If you've got a bedroom or an alchemy lab or something of the sort, you might want to do some quick cleaning before it's full of plant-based renovations.

---

Kalentia!

The veil lifts, and on the other side is a devastatingly beautiful woman. The contrast between her black hair and her white skin is so vivid that it makes the backdrop of a Lunarian mansion look tawdry. Her lips are as red as the first primordial redness that was squeezed free from Sayanastia's jaws. Her teeth might as well be polished jet, and her eyebrows are elegant brushstrokes.

Her eyes are mirrors, reflecting your face in jagged facets.

"Yes," she says. "I am approval, directed towards this signing of a contract. You are concordance, our colors similarly aligned appropriate to the maturation of fortune. I am anticipation, directed towards the fulfillment of all contractual obligations." She cuts the air open with the flick of a wrist, the opening of a fan.

Behind her, the Lunarian looks like she's dead. Her heart's torn out of her chest, seeing this again, and she hasn't realized that she's (emotionally) bleeding out all over the floor. No, wait. This is the Outside. There is literal blood trickling down the joints of her perfect emerald-green armor, staining the pink of her robes a dark, unwholesome red.

---

Eclair!

"You Maid-Knights have such weird ways of going out on dates," Mayzie grouses. With one hand, she doodles on a napkin; with the other, she swishes around the sake for this course before downing it in one shot. "Like, when I take someone out on a date, I usually like to be around them. That's the entire point, right?" She stares at you, as if daring you to say something. There's really nothing to be said, though, and that seems to irritate her more, that you didn't know the thing that's supposed to be said here.

"If I. If I had a girlfriend that was willing to drop that sort of cash? On me? And then she just disappeared and let me eat alone? Well, okay, I'd still eat- oh my god that's the soup course."

The rich scent of goblin-crab soup fills the booth, and Mayzie eagerly accepts it, not even waiting to get it on the table before she's raised it up to her lips to start sipping the broth. It's hot, it's goblin-crab, the meat's in a perfect rainbow of colors, and you get the third course sake along with this.

Do you think she's got a point, Eclair?

Do you let yourself imagine, for a moment, Timtam looking you in the eyes as she lowers the bowl demurely from her lips?

---

Yuki!

"--Cafe la Faune?"

A snippet. Just a moment. The right words at just the right time, as you're heading out to actually, properly, do a search. You come to a stop so hard that Suli nearly bowls you over and has to steady you on your feet with her tail. You look over a railing and see several people talking on the ground floor.

A young Kel woman in a bunny suit is giving directions (only partially audible now) to two people. One's tall, wearing a gown that has every single color of autumn somewhere in its swirls, her curls bursting out of the red scarf hanging over her face, while the other...

A shiver runs down your spine, watching this woman crack her neck in a way that's just a little bit the wrong way. She's wearing a fashionable Kel suit, the kind with buttons all down the front, but for some garish reason she's cut a hole in the front to let an entire bouquet of flowers peek out (which is tasteless, even in the Chrysanthemum, where flowers are very carefully regulated - just imagine if those were real!). She's got golden-rimmed starglasses hiding her eyes, and she's got her large hands stuffed in her pockets.

The yakuza vibes are smothering.

One petal floats down from her bouquet and curls, just a little bit, in the organic way that fake petals don't usually do.

The tall lady bends down, and for a moment the view of the Kel woman is blocked. Then the two are continuing on up the stairs, leaving the Kel woman to sway on her feet slightly, cheeks flushed... eyes glazed over.

But before you can continue, on the landing in front of you an entire opera audience starts pouring out, and while the employees are doing their best to keep people moving, it's still going to be hard going through the crowd.

---

Cutie! Perfectly Safe Cutie! Nothing To Worry About!

"I'm amazed that nobody's tried to actually catch you," Alcideo says, while rubbing a perfect circle in that ear. There's two meanings to that. He's so clever, isn't he? One conversation for you, another for anyone else who might be sneakily listening. "You're doing such a good job, you know. Like, back when I was starting out, I was lucky if I got tips at all. But then again I was just the Coat Guy. You can imagine how often people notice the Coat Guy."

"Did the diner back home have drink service? I used to do that. I can do a mean mixer, but nowadays people want to see more of me than my forearms, haha." His laugh is as rich as chocolate. "Don't worry about a thing, Cutie," he adds, a little quieter, his smile extremely genuine. Genuine enough to melt that chocolate. "You're doing good. And you'll see Yaz right after shift's over for encouragement."

That should really have a capital E. Encouragement. For some employees, it's remedial training. For others, it's a reward. And for you, given half an hour of Yaz's undivided attention after a shift (except for the attention she needs to look over Alcideo's shorthand notes on how you're doing), it's definitely a reward, isn't it?

Just gotta handle the dinner rush and then Yaz will personally tell you that you are a good boy, because Alcideo can see that you are a good boy, can see how seriously you take this, can see how you've got a knack for this. Maybe you'll be able to ask her for long riding trousers or something tonight.

Everything is fine.

Lower spoon into bowl, lift. Take in aroma of broth while manipulating crab with chopsticks. Place on top of broth in spoon, replication of bowl in miniature. Deep breath, insert spoon into mouth. Tilt head to allow for flavors to pass over more of tongue. Swallow.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Hesitation. Glance over, fingers splayed across napkin. No writing implement, notebook still in room. Not worth risk. Smooth napkin with fingertips, another deep breath. Lift bowl and sip at broth directly.

Empty bowl, set down. Lift sake cup, swirl. Cautious sniff. Slowly drain cup, allow tasting notes to compliment flavors of soup still lingering, gently wash palate for oncoming course.

Frown. Turn, look at Mayzie. Frown again.

"...Defend your thesis, if you please."

Silence. Snort of laughter? Why laughter? Confusion playing on face evident; subject's laughter intensifying.

"No really. I require an explanation. I have already explained to you, I am hunting her. The details of my investigation are beyond the purview of this conversation but nevertheless it is a common fact that she is a criminal. I--"

Brief pause, blink. Stare at third sake cup, slow sigh. Alcohol showing signs of taking effect. Nevertheless unacceptable to slow down pace of drinking. Intended part of meal, all plates (and bowls) to this point finish at deeply pleasing levels of cleanliness. Flavors all clear and complimentary. Storytelling as method of cooking: disrespectful of chef to not allow drink to take its course.

...Hiccup. Cover mouth. Clear throat.

"--have even been implicated via the mechanism of her schemes as some sort of wanted criminal myself. Her behavior across the Festival of Light up to and including this invitation is consistent with an attempt to ensnare me in some sort of further trap. I accepted fully anticipating this. It is my intention to discover her methodology. This is the farthest thing from a--"

Halt. Avoid cutting off an avenue of thought, regardless of how unlikely. Recheck menu, find place in meal. Six courses remain. Blink. Blink again. I'm. Sorry? Re-recheck menu. Find place in meal. Use index finger to trace to avoid confusion. Six courses remain. Ah. Nevertheless. On your honor as a maid-knight: persevere.

"...My humblest apologies. Let us proceed from the assumption that I am a fool. What evidence have you ascertained that this is an attempt at dating?"

All focus here, on this moment. On this person. Do not allow thoughts of Timtam to float upward. This will complicate the investigation.

Hiccup. Turn eyes down, feel heat rising in cheeks.

[Figure Out a Person: 3 + 1 + 1 = 5]

Cair!

"Cair! Good Stars, are you alright?"
"Ah, shit! Rurik, how did you get here?"
"Portal. Cair, the legions of the damned are inside the gates! We need to do something!"
"Hi Cair."
"Hi Tsane - look, Rurik, how did you even know -"
"Magic. The legions of the damned, Cair!"
"- okay, fine - hi Injimo -"
"Hi Cair."
"- but look, you probably don't need to be here. I'm still not convinced this is a problem yet."
"The legions of the damned, Cair! They are inside the gates!"
"Rurik, you haven't really spent much time here, have you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Look, this place is the collection of the Hero of Ages. And she doesn't just collect items. She collects enemies, monsters, things whose place in the world she destroyed."
"Mmm?"
"That means that this place is perpetually full of dangerous creatures."
"Right. But that is different from having the legion of the damned inside the gates, surely?"
"Well, not really - like, the Hero's Shadow hangs out here, did you know?"
"Good Stars! Tsane, can you fight the Hero's Shadow?"
"Well, I can resist the temptation to get weirdly horny about fighting it for about twenty minutes, tops."
"Well... that will have to do. Thank you for letting us know, Cair, we'll deal with that right after we stop the legion of the damned -"
"Rurik! I'm saying it because it's kind of normal here! Like, I was just speaking to the Architect Knight the other day -"
"The Architect Knight! Good Stars! Thank you for letting us know, Cair - Injimo, can you fight the Architect Knight?"
"Yeah."
"Oh thank goodness, I thought for a moment there you were going to say the same thing as Tsane."
"I mean, I'm always weirdly horny when I fight. I just don't let it interfere with the job."
"That's the spirit! So come on, Cair - don't you have an alchemy lab or something? Can't you whip up some weed killer?"
"Rurik - look, shouldn't we just wait for Heron to handle it?"
"What?"
"If the, uh, the -"
"Legion of the damned."
"Rootwalkers."
"Oh, is that what they're called?"
"Yeah, - they're a fascinating blend of Nature/Shadow mana, actually. It's a melding technique called hedging, which in this case is a neat pun, and -"
"Look, if the Rootwalkers are here then they're not somewhere else. So why not let them be here? There's nothing here for them."
"That one is holding the Sword of Invincibility."
"Yeah but they're using it as a shovel. It's fine."
"- allows ordinarily contradictory magical forces to feed off their opposition. Some advanced pyromancers develop an incidental mastery of ice just because concentrating heat in one place means drawing that heat away from -"
"They are destroying the Stacks!"
"Rurik, I've been living here for a long while, and I honestly couldn't say that this place is any worse than when they started."
"I've been meaning to talk to you about that, actually. You are a Handmaiden, aren't you? You believe this level of cleaning is acceptable?"
"W-what!?"
"We work for the Hero of Ages. This place should reflect her stature. And it's positively filthy."
"Rurik, she has an entire cursed desert in here! Do you expect me to dust it?"
"Well, why not get a rake and start drawing sand circles? It might take a little while but it'd improve the effect enormously."
"That'd take a hundred years!"
"Well, that's why we are imbued with reproductive organs, is it not?"
"Oh, wow, grandad. And you take issue with my monsterfucking?"
"Not at all. I just wish it would result in some great-grandchildren already."
"Grandpa!"
"You're not getting any younger, Tsane."
"I don't need to be here for this conversation. I'm going to start killing Rootwalkers now."
"Very good! See Cair, Injimo has the right attitude with regards to the legion of the damned being inside the gates. You could learn a thing or two."
"Injimo wait - ah she's gone, fuck."
"Speaking of, Cair, why don't you settle down with my granddaughter?"
"I'm going to the alchemy lab now."
"Oh, excellent. Tsane, go with her, it'll be like a wizard date!"
">:("
"o灬o"

*

Kalentia!

"Woah woah woah hey now nonconcordance dissonance megastalling medical emergency," said Kalentia, shoving directly past the woman to head for Fallen Far.

After a moment she realized she'd just shoved aside the hottest woman she'd ever seen who was in the process of telling her that they were going to get married and then do extremely married things to her. Because there was an injured patient nearby and she needed to attend to that before she could process anything else.

In that moment Kalentia realized that she was an excellent white mage - and that being an excellent white mage fucking sucked.

“Did you hear that?” Yuki says, steadying herself against Suli’s extremely steadyable yourself against coils. “Cafe la faune, is that like, uh, wow now I need to wonder if Thellamie has some kind of universal translator thing happening and I heard that in French because that’s like the universal signifier for someone being pretentious.” Yuki blushes, straightens her cloak and stands back up. “Well, we need to check it out at any rate. Even if it’s just a costume cafe, it’s a great starting point. Plus those two down below us kind of looked like hunters. I mean, I dunno, they looked like what I’d think hunters would look like, like, they had a strong aura you know?”

Yuki glances slightly away, partially to follow where they went and partially because powerful aura was also code for wow that dress with those curls was hot, huh, yeah. By the time she collects herself and the search party is about to get moving, however, there’s a crowd. And quite a crowd! Yuki’s never been to an opera, but she’s been to several soccer matches and normally with that sort of thing there’s, like, a regulated space for the crowd. Everybody is supposed to go in and out a certain way and then once they’re out there’s space for them to spread out and it’s not a big deal unless you get stuck right at the entrance. This is much more chaotic, the opera house letting out directly onto the street and the crowd all seemingly trying to get somewhere with considerable haste, despite most of them looking like they have nothing better to do but relax at their next venue.

Even so, Yuki’s always considered herself good at moving through crowds. It’s one of the advantages of being on the smaller side. And the fellowship of the golden faun is full of competent people who know how to take advantage of an opportunity. So, Yuki strides forward confidently, with all the authority and boldness of a Kel knight about her work. And she forms the tip of the spear, creating the space between people as she goes that forces people to widen and move aside for the Nagi behind her. Though it’s by no means subtle and risks angering someone important if they were to misstep, there are no missteps. Yuki nails the look and and she nails the route to make sure that people see that look. Nobody wants to be the person who got in the way of a knight, and Yuki makes sure that they’re moving so that everyone sees that rather than any fools crashing into her by accident absorbed in conversation or their tablets. So the crowd parts for her and for the fellowship and they rush after the unusual pair headed to cafe la faune.

[Defy disaster with Daring to rush through the crowd without losing the Yakuza pair. Risking a blunder into someone important. 5+6+1=12.]

"I will?!"

His hands fly to his mouth. Too slow to contain the squeak.

"Um. I mean. No, no, you’re good, it’s, that, ah, that’s, that is a good spot, you didn’t. It’s just. That. It’s. Very nice of her. T-to. Be so, concerned, about my. Um. Work. And. Yes."

His detailed explanation finished, he buries his face in Alcideo’s shoulder. Flustered. Embarrassed. A silly little deer, hardly able to think about the perils of Yaz’s Encouragement without falling to pieces where he stood. Alcideo must already see him, at the end of his shift, muddling through his good-byes and good-job-today’s before obediently trot-trot-trotting his silly little butt up to the clutches of Miss Yaz. Just like he was told.

(It’s a little easier? It’s a little easier with Encouragement being a sometimes food. There’s no schedule to it, Miss Yaz must be busy. She can’t spare a half hour every day. And it’s not like he’s doing that good of a job every single day. He..

Well, he has a little trouble remembering exactly how good he does day-to-day. How did Miss Yaz know he was counting his tip money that closely?

Anyway! Point is, a good bit of the surprise is real every time, and so’s the melting into his seat. He’s not. He’s not asking for encouragement. Yaz just. Knows that it helps. And she enjoys. Um. Encouraging sillyheads who can hardly talk straight. Which is all to say, Alcideo laughs at shy, useless sillyheads too.)

“Drink service!” He says, totally composed. “Yes! I mean! No! I mean, we served drinks, but just soda and juice and things like that. Not a lot of mixing going on. Though I did learn how to mix up a mean hot chocolate.” That’s right; this is the silly grin of an expert cocoa brewer! Took him weeks and weeks of experimenting to nail it down. The tricky bit was, when you’re making cocoa for somebody else, you can’t sip it partway through to see if it’s come out right.

Mmm. A hot cocoa would be so good right now. A quiet lounge. A hard day’s work. A good couch to sink into. A better friend to hug you close and work magic on your poor ears. Distant music, sneaking in softly from the cafe. Yes. Two mugs of cocoa would make everything perfect. Warm bellies, to match their hearts.

(He hasn’t really thought of the Hunt in days. There’s danger Outside. Inside, there is warmth, and laughter, and friends, and good days ending in cozy nights.

He could stay here forever.)

“Thank you,” and he curls up, nestling into Alcideo’s side, as if he’s trying to smile with his whole body. As if the scrunched-up face pressed into Alcideo’s soft fur is nowhere close to good enough. “I couldn’t be doing any of this without your help. You’re looking out for me, showing me the ropes, and knocking it out of the park at six tables at once. I just. You’re so good at this, it means a lot to hear you say that.” As if somebody could look at someone like him and say, yeah, we’ll start that cat on coats. On coats! Unless he’s been working here for so long he was too young to do anything but coats. Hrm. “I’ll let you know if I need anything. Thanks. Again.”

“...but seriously, why put the tip money in our pants?”

Eclair!

"What do you... Ecky, all the maid-knights are dating. Everybody knows that. If a maid in a suit of armor shows up with a bunch of Khaganate treasure and goes daaaaaahling, I would just absolutely adore buying accommodations for a compatriot, and then a super-intense maid - who's still wanted by the Civils, by the way, let me just remind you of that - rolls in and starts asking a bunch of questions about her? This is kink. This is absolutely kink. I don't know what the game is or what win condition you're working towards - and before you ask, I don't know where she is, either, she said she'd be back at the end of your stay - but I do know what kink looks like. I work at the Chrysanthemum, for Civelia's sake."

Maybe it's the drink talking, but she is emotionally compromised about this. Perhaps Timtam has somehow compromised her. That's why she's looking so intently at you and then looking away, more than once. Yes. You have discovered one of Timtam's agents in the Chrysanthemum. She's working with the enemy. What was she promised? Power? Money? Probably money, from the looks of her. You must grill her for information.

"Maybe it's a chastity thing?" Mayzie says, giving you a Look. "I would have noticed a belt, but I know some people do it just with willpower and that's the sort of thing you would be into..."

---

Handmaidens!

The Architect Knight stomps back into the Stacks wearing wooden armor after several hours of Rootwalker... gardening? She's got more than her hammer: she's got a plumb line and a ruler. Very dangerous tools of architecting. But the Heartcompass she's got might be the most dangerous of all.

She's intending to do... architecting. All over the Stacks. She's got Rootwalkers as a workforce (despite Injimo doing her best to trim their numbers, pulling roots right out of spines). No idea what her plan is, though. She used to work for Queen Aria, but thankfully that deeply unpleasant incarnation of Yana is long dead and buried.

You know, in the woods.

---

Yuki!

You catch up to these two right at the line to get into Cafe la Faune. You can slot into line right behind them.

The tall, dark-skinned woman is breathing in and out, deeply, as if enjoying some sort of perfume or deeply enjoying the ambience. (It... does smell nice around her. Really nice. She must have a really expensive perfume.) Her ears are very still.

But it's the woman in the suit who notices you. "Hey," she says. It's not a friendly hey, but it's holding a little friendly mask up in front of itself, trying to pretend that it's friendly with all the ardor of the lead in a school play. "You know that this, uh, cafe isn't closing, right? No need to run all the way over here."

She was watching you. She noticed you, specifically. She is wearing those starglasses, but she is still Looking at you.

Her breath is sweet. Cloyingly sweet. You can tell that even over the lovely smell of the other woman's perfume. Like sugars breaking down. Like nail polish remover. Like the death of honey.

The flowers are shifting, ever so slightly, whenever she takes an irregular breath.

"You, uh, you girls big Fawn fans?" She smiles like a shark.

"Faun," says the other woman. It's soft, lyrical, pleasant. Much more pleasant than the shark. Breathe deep. Relax. Stop worrying. "It's the Golden Faun. Darling." She takes another deep breath. The light glints oddly off her lips.

---

Cutie!

You have a very important job here for the dinner rush. You need to go outside for ten minutes and invite guests in, and then you'll swap out with Staxy who does such a fantastic drag performance of... well, of you. The other you. The sparkly idea of you that everyone's actually here to see.

And it is when you step out to do this vitally important task that you will notice that Yuki's here, and also that there is a tall woman in a dress like autumn who Looks at you when you come out. Like, everyone is looking at you, cheering a little, taking pictures on their tablets... but she Looks, and she breathes in, and she breathes out.

But also, Yuki?! Here?! How do you feel about that?

"That's a, a, a, a, a, a, a -- do not call me 'Ecky' -- a, a, misconception. Stereotype. Rumor. Unsubstantiated. A gross - apologies, no, I am speaking to something else entirely, the food is delicious - exaggeration. Oversimplification. To refer to the Great Game as any form of dating is. Ah. Ah."

"In the second place this assessment utterly fails to account for the fact that she, that Timtam is -- stop line of explanation. Details of Aurora examination are still not the purview of civilians, do not reveal secret information. It is of no concern of Mayzie's whom among us has gone renegade. Apologies, but no. I refuse to consider the possibility that this is strictly kink. You may be a genius but she is a mastermind and she has already com, com, compromised you."

"...Fish course astonishing. More meals should be prepared with this much care. The design intent to leave the plate so spotless actually loops back around to heighten the flavor of the bite. There is an inherent lack of mystery in such controlled narration but the specificity! I could not prepare a meal such as this. I am, mmmmmmmmmm, impressed. Almost against my will I am forced to conclude the skill involved justifies the barrier to experience it."

"...I lack the information to determine how she has compromised you. But she has. Do not hide your, your, your, ah, um, uh, your face. You are, you are, you are! You very clearly are! That is fine. I permit it. Since it is you... I permit it. We will attend the fullness of this meal and then you will -hic!- accompany me to my quarters. I require. I need. Require. My notebook. Were you bought off? How much money did it take? Did she, did Timtam apply her feminine wiles upon you? She did that thing with her hair, didn't she? I will kill her when we meet."

"...Arrest. I will force first confession and then apology from her lips. Then I will return both of these things to you as recompense. That is what I meant to say. I am. No, I am not. But I do not... imbibe. That is. My own meals have a marked preference for coffee or oh! Is that a cup of teA? Astonishing. Incredible. I had not even thought to word the wish, my deepest compliments."

"Returning to the mat, matter at hand. Nnnf. I am hot. I am -hic, hic, HIC!- overheating. When we. Retire? Return. Resume, resume the interview in earnest. I will need to, ah, need... please do not assume lecherous intent. I do not wish to harm our friendship any further than I already have."

"You... understand I could not stay. Don't you? It was not that, I do not mean to say, I did not hear the Aurora calling to me. I could not hear the voices of the sleeping dragons until I had already located the Manor. I did not choose to leave. Vespergift... threw me out. There was no, no time to, I did not! It was not my place to ask if... you were, so clearly..."

"Countertop is pleasantly cool against my sweat slicked forehead. The sake is of unimpeachable quality but at the ninth cup I question its implementation. Was it the hidden puzzle of the narration? I missed the clue entirely. I am going to have you tell me everything she told you. Not now. In my room. You will tell me everything. As you are an. An. An, enemy. Enemy agent. I will require. Need. Have to write. Your testimoney in Purple. I wish it were not necessary. But it is. I wish to hear her words. I would hear. Um. Details. Of... you said, uh, Khaganate treasure? Where would she have? No. I must not chase these disorganized thoughts."

"I am. Adrift. The sea is hazy and the waves are deeply uncertain stepping stones. My fear in this moment is that I lack the skill to navigate the maze I now find myself trapped in. Two days to come out ahead of the trap being set. I am. As my once best friend and childhood crush reminded me, currently a bounty-level person of interest to the Civils. My deepest fear is that the only certain path available to me. Leads me. Leads me to. The inevi, um, the um. Inevitable betrayal. Of. All that I... my. Ideals. And..."

"Have I? Been speaking? You appear concerned. I am fine. I am strong, stronger than this. Was I really? The... entire time?"

“W vs. U? I didn’t even know there was a different way to say the two, but you definitely managed it.” She answers about nothing while she thinks. Because Yuki’s hackles are up. Every part of her hates this. Not even sure exactly why. It’s the tall one though. The one that seems nicer. Hate it hate it hate it, burn it with fire. She reads like some of Yuki’s extended family members. Who may even be in the Yakuza for all she knows, but there’s this comfort with her. Like she’s never even considered the possibility that she might not be able to do whatever she wants. You can feel it around her, that pressure to just relax and be comfortable and pleasant with her and let her do her thing and no fuck no burn burn burn.

She turns to suit instead. Suit is a normal problem. A very simple I don’t want you here and now I have to deal with you. She can focus on that. “My apologies my lady” she says, turning to Sulochana rather than continuing the conversation with either of them. “I appear to have erm, moved too quickly when we heard about the Golden Faun” (said with the U). “I am on business, to serve as a guard for my lady, and she wishes to go here. I’m sure you know that a knight on errantry doesn’t do things by half measures.”

She’s trying to be formal, and it’s probably working here. She doesn’t need to fake the glower or the stern look. She’s barely keeping herself from putting a hand out to summon her heartblade. It’s not appropriate for these streets, certainly not appropriate to start a duel in the middle of the line to the latest craze cafe, and so she won’t be the one to instigate, at least while in control of her own faculties. But she’d welcome it if these two made something happen. The combination of threat and condescension is quite nearly too much.

No, better to play her part, act the bodyguard, let Sulochana speak as much or as little as she wants about why they’re here, while she stares daggers at the pair and they all wait calmly in line.

Hazel, when you find them in line, you’re not going to see a particularly happy-looking Yuki. In fact, as a cutie host, it’s probably your job to notice the tension and try to ease it. Don’t want the customers complaining about shoulder and neck pain after waiting in line at the Golden Faun, after all!

Injimo!

Injimo had more time for art than you might think, given her line of work. People saw the muscles and the scars and they assumed that she spent her free time chewing iron nails and bench pressing construction workers. The thing about getting the shit beaten out of you as a lifestyle, though, is that there was a lot of time spent lying on your back waiting for your body to put itself back together[1].

[1] White magic could accelerate the process, sure, but do too much of it and you start growing angel wings and start thinking thoughts of beatific pacifism and compassion towards all living things. This was a significant disadvantage when it came to punching living things[2], so Injimo tried to heal naturally when she could.
[2] Thellamie's religious-philosophical development has not yet progressed to the point where it is commonly understood that beating the shit out of people can be an act of beatific compassion.

She wasn't much for books - they took more fine muscle control than she could be guaranteed to have. She liked art. Sitting in Civil Churches and looking at the murals, in particular. Many of them were functional as well as aesthetic; they were extraordinarily detailed paintings of the Hero of Ages destroying one of her many ancient foes, and in the process capturing encoded specifics of stance, technique and enemy weakness. The Civil Church maintained these pieces as a way to remind a reborn Hero of abilities she once possessed and might learn again. Somehow Heron could figure out the intended message within minutes or even seconds of looking at the murals. Injimo just had to spend the long, slow hours letting the brush strokes flow into her mind.

She'd meditated on the Fall of the Architect-Knight for an entire rainy weekend in a little chapel near Vespergift. She'd done her best afterwards to learn the technique. The leap. The lunge. The thunderspear, right into the keystone locket without which all stone would crumble. So many hours of thought and training and failure, all leading up to this moment when she got to recreate a moment out of history. Injimo burst through the horde and flew at her foe, and hoped that she had not somehow moved her mystic weak point.

What does Cutie do about that?

Cutie flits from table to table, starting with the guests who’ve been waiting the longest. He greets them warmly, he welcomes them into this magical, starlit dream, he takes their orders and requests with earnest joy, because he would love to make their adventure that little bit more memorable. A picture? Of course! He’s quite good at the heart hands, if you would like. A drink? Ah, of course you’re thirsty! You’ve had a long journey. Please, stay a while, refresh yourselves. The extra waters are on the house, don’t you worry. A snack? Oh! Oh!!! Terribly sorry, but you know the rules of the Road, see, and it would be very unlucky to eat the fellow you’ve just met. Might he suggest the Hoofprints instead? Wonderful! He’ll be right back with those, and the stars will surely light your way shortly!

What does Cutie feel about that?

He keeps forgetting to breathe.

He spares a glance at the table, whenever he’s going to and fro, but when he’s talking he can’t spare the attention. She could’ve seen him already. She could be seeing him right now. But even if he did catch her eye, did he have a plan? No! Of course not! He’d, well, he’d do something. A nod. A frantic shake of the head. Does mouthing something across the room ever work? Mouthing something across the room never works.

He can’t blow his cover. Miss Yaz has done so much to shield him. Amali gave him a place to sleep and safe travel. Keli and Seli and their fox wizard friend risked themselves to give him a chance to escape. He could ruin it all. Right now. The wrong word. Pausing too long in his work. Somebody could see. Somebody could put two and two together. He saw what happened at the Festival. What could happen in the Crysthanamum?

(He ran the streets until his voice was hoarse. The city was so large. He couldn’t have warned everyone.)

He wants to grip his tray until his knuckles turn white and all his fingers ache. He wants to thwack it against his horns, not hard enough to really hurt, but, but, stupid, stupid, stupid. All this time having fun in a fancy cafe. Chatting into the night with everyone after work. Getting Encouragement. More than enough time to text Yuki back. And he’d meant to. He’d really meant to. But the trip didn’t leave any time for it, not when someone in their burrow might see. Then he got here. And.

Would’ve been nice to get her into the loop. Would’ve been nice to ask how she was doing after he ruined the festival. And burned down half of Crevas for all he knew. Not like he showed much care about that.

Lazy, stupid, useless Cutie.

He had nothing. All because he couldn’t send one, stupid text. All he could do was his job, and make his way closer, and closer. Table by table. Until, eventually, she’d see him, and he had to hope she wouldn’t react. At all. To meeting him…l-like this…

(His legs feel so exposed. He can’t reach down and tug at them. That just draws attention.

Should he be here? Should Hazel be here? Is this too much? He’s not being overt or anything. The shorts are short but he’s not flicking his tail in people’s faces. He’s just. He’s being a waiter. Sort of. A waiter who takes pictures sometimes. The acting, it’s like Disneyworld, right? He’s heard Disneyworld is very similar. Everybody’s welcome at Disneyworld. He’s not done anything more. More than this. And, it wasn’t, 100% his idea to come here - but he didn’t object either. And he did tell Miss Yaz he wanted to. And he keeps going up for Encouragement. But, he’s still just a waiter, honest. This is all he’s done. If you got to know the other hosts, you’d see, it’s not really that much.

He can’t explain any of it to her before she sees him. You know. Because he didn’t text her.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.)

Well. He did have a little he could do. And he still had a job to do…

****************************

“Welcome, brave adventurers!”

A new voice dashes through the tension. The smell of cinnamon sugar dances with the lady’s perfume.

Cutie greets one and all with a big, warm smile, as warm as the tray of Cinnamoon Starlight Rolls he sets on the table. “Be you hunters, wanderers, dreamers, or anything in-between, I’m so happy the stars have taken your journey here. And a chance meeting on the road deserves a proper snack.” His bow is polite. His sweep of the hands is gracious. His walk is as chaste as can be in these shorts. “Please, accept this blessing from a humble Faun.”

(When he makes it through this. If he makes it through this. He will explain to Miss Yaz why his tip money is so light today.

He walked by the other tables on the way here. They could’ve noticed him. They could’ve noticed this is his first time at this table. Which means this table couldn’t have ordered those snacks. Imagine how they must feel, seeing how this table is getting such nice treatment and they’re not.

He’ll count his bills. He might need to run to his locker.)

And what a blessing it is! Swirls of cinnamon form a perfect crescent moon on each roll, and through a glaze of icing dance a sea of sparkling sweet stars. The rolls are warm, fresh from the oven. Soft, chewy, with little sweet starry crunches to add variety to the texture. In his humble opinion, one of the best treats here. Also in his humble opinion, very difficult to maintain a tense disagreement when your mouth is contending with a big cinnamon roll and your hands are sticky with icing.

(He doesn’t look at Yuki, because his job is to see to the whole table, and he’s never met Yuki before in his life. But out of the corner of his eye he watches her face.

Does she like the gift? Are the rolls good? Is she smiling? Enjoying herself?

She’s not fed up with him if she’s smiling. If she’s looking happy, after seeing him like this.

His bow doesn’t falter. His smile doesn’t waver. His heart never stops begging. Please. Please. Just a little smile.

Tell him you don't hate him.)

Olesya!

The light sweat on your skin is pleasant. So is the burn of muscles properly used, given a chance to prove themselves.

Two ashiqs against your hand-picked huntresses. They should have known you had their scent, that they were going to lose, but they fought anyway, and squirmed like serpents after being skewered on heartblades.

The Faun’s here. In this city. They didn’t need to say anything to tell you that. The hunch you had about the empty spot in the sightings was right. Already, beautiful Juniper sends an update through the Huntchat. The entire hunt will be converging on this city soon, but the Khatun expects you to find him first.

Think, Oly, think. Try not to get distracted by every vendor’s sales pitch, every wafting perfume, every creak of the bridges, the knowledge of how people are moving all around you and tracing out where they will be and how you could maneuver around them to get an arm around their neck and—

Juniper touches your arm and the thoughts melt like butter. You crush her into a one-armed hug, into the feeling of her against you, and your pack nods approval. This is the way it has to be. If the Khatun— if your mother— thought she was a distraction, she would be removed. So you have to do this.

“Where are we going?” she squeaks. You can’t tell her that you don’t know. Everyone expects you to know. You stared at maps of the city on your tablet for hours as you walked. But cities are so different than the clear, crisp peril of the Outside, where need and desire are your guides.

You cannot just want the Faun enough to have him land in your lap.

“To the Lodge,” you say, with the commanding certainty needed of the next Khatun. “From there, we know.”

One of the two ashiqs (…Keli? you think to yourself) makes a disparaging noise, before squealing as she’s hoisted up on Mekesh’s shoulder.

---

Handmaidens!

Oh, you dear little sillyheads, there is only one thing wrong with Injimo’s plan right here. And that is that the Architect-Knight’s hair has become her armor. She grew it out over centuries, and isn’t that a mystery how she’s survived that long? But she is bereft of her apron, bereft of the necklace that her locket hung upon, and where she’s hidden it on her body— well, good luck finding your way under that curtain of hair.

But let’s watch Injimo for a moment navigate an increasingly complex battlefield. In her left hand, the Architect-Knight bears her heartblade, a massive black broadsword that might be used as much as a shield or a trowel than as a sword, but in her right she has her long-handled hammer, a tool of creation and destruction forged under the breath of the Dark Dragon.

With her left hand she swings her revenge, her fury, her contempt; with the right she raises walls and collapses them. Oh, Injie, you’re fighting the terrain as much as you are the Knight herself.

And that’s why you are so spectacular a fighter, to get in close and impale her right in the breastbone with a heart shaped like a spear. The Knight roars both pain and… admiration?

"Fierce my foe / fast-falling
lunging-lance / lightly-lifted.”
Her voice is hoarse with the pain of Injimo’s heart lancing her chest. But she still stands, a titan, her massive knuckles white on the handle of her hammer.
"Captive I cannot / consent to call
Myself in misery / mighty my merit.”

The hammer she lifts, impossibly. And a door she makes, right there in the floor.

---

Eclair!

“You are an idiot,” Mayzie says, with more emotion in her voice, raw and strained, than you have ever remembered her deploying. “You can’t come to me now, when I’m not even hot enough to work out front, accuse me of getting involved in your maid sex-death-crime game, and then you— years, years after, you confess to me now, so drunk that you don’t even…? Eclair Espoir—“

An entire rug made out of hair falls through a door on the ceiling, taking out several tables on the way down, shaking plates and lamps everywhere. (Naturally you stop one of the shot glasses from falling off the table.) Mayzie is screaming and halfway onto the table herself.

"Fucking falls / fuck this floor,” the rug groans, and then lifts a very large hammer and smacks it into the floor. A door opens in the floor and the rug tumbles limply through, accompanied by more tables and an entire drinks cart. Screams resound from below.

And giddy fangirl screams break out as a woman tumbles out after. “Oh my god,” a Serigalamu woman at the bar shrieks, “it’s Heron’s personal trainer!”

Immediately the personal trainer in question is swarmed by guests who want to know if Heron is coming— which of her many dastardly foes was that— is she going to be giving out autographs tonight?

Mayzie slowly comes to the realization that she has grabbed for your hand, and suddenly lets go as if you were an unexpected hot coal in the middle of a batch of plums. “Eclair Espoir,” she says, hotly, shakily, with that determination you remember well, “I am never going to forgive you!”

So this investigation is going well.

---

Cutie!

The woman in oranges and yellows and reds draws back her scarf just a little bit, just so that her incredibly hazel-colored eyes are visible to you. She breathes in like she’s been holding her breath on a bet, and then she

exhales

and places a hand on your hand.

“Oh,” she says. “You are so cute, aren’t you?” You are so cute. You’re Cutie! “Oh, you’re— look, it says Cutie on his name plate! Yes, you are, aren’t you?” You are. She says so. You must be—

But she half-turns when there’s a crash from a higher level, and her eyes and her attention are no longer fully on you. Like, an incredible, jarring crash, and part of you blinks and becomes aware that the other part of you is trying to swim through a fog of floral cotton candy. Call it the part in parentheses. And that worry, that sharpness—

Well, for once it might be right in ringing the alarm bells.

She has a very firm grip on your wrist.

---

Yuki!

Tall Yakuza has her hand on Hazel’s wrist. The look on Hazel’s face isn’t something you want to see on a friend’s face.

I mean, you should be polite. You should let Hazel know how stormy your expression is, first. And how you feel about how he’s dressed, the way he was acting before he went funny and then went not funny with the woman holding his wrist.

And then you should be aware of the fact that the Suit is leaning her elbow against the table, cutting off your view of Hazel for a moment as she cranes her head upwards, towards that awful crashing noise from upstairs.

You should be aware that there is a pale, ghoulish light reflected on the inside of her starglasses, visible for just a moment.

And Sulochana is making her way around the table, to your right, and the Suit’s head cocks like a bird. You should be aware that the Suit is adjusting her footing, turning around, pivoting towards Suli, and those are real flowers coming out of her suit and those are contraband around here, so you could make a fuss about that, if you wanted, but this big jerk is between you and the face Hazel is making and you aren’t going to stand for that, are you, Yuki Edogawa?

Injimo!

It doesn't matter what you decide, so long as you decide.

This was the first law of portal combat. To come through a portal meant being placed in a new situation. Enemies were different. Terrain was different. Opportunities were different. Everything about operating in a null information space encouraged the warrior to slow down, get their bearings, think things through and come up with a plan. Those instincts were defeat. Decide first.

She grabs the fangirl by the shoulders. Hefts herself up. Legs over her head. Puts her boot on her back. Kick off, full force. Launch over the crowd, trailing the spear. Whirl it through the trisagion sign of thunder. A rush of air and electricity blows out lights, illuminating the room around her with sudden blue electricity that pools at the tip of her spear. She brings it all down towards Eclair Espoir.

Only now that she has committed to the attack can she think through her reasoning. One, the Architect Knight is already out of the Stacks and is therefore Not Her Problem. Two, Eclair is part of an active plot and has already evaded her once, she's by far the more valuable target. But, she recognizes in the moment that she unleashes Heron's lightning-lance technique, that the actual motive was that she'd fought monsters and devils before, but she'd never fought a Maid Knight.

So her brain settled into a relaxed state: Hey, cool. I'm fighting a Maid Knight. I wonder if the rumour is true they really do have a second form where they turn into dragons after you defeat them.

"No. No, indeed. I am unforgivable."

The intent is to speak in a cool and soothing tone. Apply rational acceptance to Mayzie's words of passion to reinforce the correctness of her anger. Placate her by proving that her words were understood and and accepted, and do not tear further rifts by making any sort of foolish attempt to 'fix' the mistake via some grand apology or whatever other nonsense. Smooth, intelligent, put together. In a word, professional.

This is not working out. Her voice cracks at "am", and in the middle of the next word there are tears welling in her eyes. Childish memories and childish fears made realized. She should never have returned to Vespergift. It threw her out for good reason. She sniffles, professionally.

"I sw, sw, sw, nnf. Difficult. Why?" her cheeks are wet now, she can't make it stop, "On my honor! I never meant to involve you in anything! Only this is not a sex thing! Or if it, erm, whatever, whatever else is going on something dangerous is happening in the world! Timtam has answers! You have answers, Mayzie! Please just allow me to--"

Eclair feels a sudden realization of impending doom. She turns and sees the spear flying straight at her chest, and there is no time to analyze her way around it. Instinct and instinct alone can save her. Luckily she is already holding this deeply excellent stoneware teacup. She slips her palm under the bottom of it and holds it steady with her off hand. She has of course already drained and dried it in the course of dinner, so there are no irredeemably rude drops spilled here. She bends her arms and pivots forward on her hips, moving into one single smooth step.

And captures the tip of the spear inside the teacup. Reinforced by the assistance of the tiniest tap of her heartblade (no more than unfocused light magic at this level of manifestation, and only a flash of it at that), stone is a match for lightning. She has captured the enemy's blade.

"Trap weapon in elbow, pivot hip and drive opponent off balance. Lift into air and-- damn it all am I still doing it? I forswear the act of drinking nine cups of sake in a single sitting forever more."

As she complains, she also follows through on her own narration. Wrenching the weapon forward, she rocks her hip in the opposite direction and snaps a perfect side kick into this interloper's stomach.

"Roll, retract, step into attack. Deprive opponent of spear entirely, follow through with hip check. Drop weapon, grapple right arm. Roll and... throw! This really does complicates matters, would you quite mind not disturbing a place of repose for these fine workers and their guests?"

There are still tears running down her face. Eclair Espoir, the Violet Flash, hiccoughs so violently that it forces her into a giggling fit. What else is a girl to do in this situation? With the suddenness of this new assault (Princess Heron's personal trainer? Does she have one of those?), what else can she conclude but that it is connected to the plot of these past several weeks? If this is not a Timtam masterstroke it is at least a piece that she placed on the board at some point. Therefore more effort is required to retain this information until it can be--

"May, uh, Mayzie. Would it be terribly rude to ask you to... write down what is happening? If you please? If you do I will... eschew our interview. Yes, I will, nnnnfffff. Tr, trade that information for this. You will never... n-n-need to speak to me. Again. Nor see. My face."

Eclair sets the teacup down on the table, and pushes it away from her just slightly to clear space in the room. And that's really all the stoicism she can handle. The Detective Princess of the Maid-Knights loses her war with open sobbing, with alcohol, and with the regret of a dozen things left unsaid and un-redeemed, as she kicks up Injimo's (not that she knows who that is) spear into her hands and twirls it for a moment to test its weight and power.

Spin, snap. Spin, spin, snap. She thrusts once, shrugs, and turns it sideways to toss it back to her attacker while she rubs her eyes on her sleeve with her other hand. There. Now she is focused. Already she can see more clearly, and with a project to distract her there's no more need for these shameful and awkward displays.

"I will confess I am now no longer certain what is happening here. Is this also a kink thing? Are you into this? Because I do not typically allow such bold advances before at least a second date."

She tucks her hand into her pocket, and something disappears inside of it.

[Fight: 6 + 6 + 2 = 14. per her abilities as the Investigator, Eclair will take a String, provoke Injimo into revealing a personal detail, and via misdirection and clever hands pilfer some form of evidence that will further the investigation of one of her active mysteries.]

He’s…cute? Him? Him? With all his everything? Cute?

He’s. Cute!

She says he’s cute!

Why, that just! She’s! Wow! Wow!!!

C’mon, ma’am, stop it! How’s he supposed to hold all this happy and stay professional? He’s trying! He’s trying real hard! But his smile’s melting into a big, wrinkly grin, and, and, he’s shuffling from one foot to the other, and pawing at the ground like a big bashful goober. And. W-wait. No. No.

Noooooooooo aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

It…it does say that on his nameplate! He is Cutie! You said so yourself! Many times! Oh, oh gosh, golly, heck and beans, his tail’s gonna flick right through the ceiling, and it’ll be all your fault, and, he sure hopes you’re ready to live with that! It’s gonna happen! Just you wait!

But maybe. But maybe? She is ready for that? Because her hand. (Hazel.) It. It’s. Wow. It’s so soft. (She just took your hand.) How can hand be so soft? How can hand so smooth and so lovely against his? (No customer’s touched you this entire time.) And. Oh. Ohhhhhh. Her thumb. Running across his hand and wrist. (She took your hand.) Baaaaaaack. And forth. Baaaaaaack. And forth. So soft. So soothing.

So cool.

(Her body is too cool.)

…bwuh?

What was that noise?

He looks. He turns. He can’t move.

He can’t move.

Oh.

(This is bad. Something’s wrong. He should feel afraid. He should feel alarmed. But he just. Can’t. It’s there. Sort of. But it’s like his head and heart are stuffed with fluff. Thick, smothering, floral fluff. He has to muster an effort even to tug at his trapped wrist. Beyond the fact that this lady has a grip of iron. Even putting his weight into it, she’s not budging an inch.)

“Uh…um. Excuse me…”

(And still. He can’t. Ngh.)

“Ma’am, could you, please-”

(Why can’t he think?)

“Could you just-”

(What’s wrong with him?!)

“Stop!”

There’s a flash of light.

Warm and wild. Laughing and leaping. Rush and ruin. Condensed to a single glimmering moment. Stretching wider than words can hold. They dance, never-ceasing. They dance, never-seen. They dance, through the heart of a Faun, and through the touch of a hand. Swell of wonder! Of joy! Of life! Plant your feet and suffer the tide! Bare your heart that it may be treasured!

Listen! Listen! And hear the song of the stars!

[The mysterious visitor is given a Touch of Nature: 3 + 5 + 2 = 10
-She must answer the question “What do you hope to get from Cutie?” or take a Condition
-She may give Cutie a string on her to clear a Condition]

The first thing that happened is that Yuki was handed an absolutely delicious and adorable cinnamon roll by her dear friend Hazel. Who was dressed in a very revealing work outfit. Which, you know what, she'd never have guessed it for him, but if he'd taken a job here to hide, well, honestly, Keli and Seli could have done a lot worse to him actually. This was within scope of actual foxgirl help and that was great, and Hazel really seemed like he was enjoying himself and that was great too. She wouldn't mistake him for anyone else, and she had a lot of questions, but she was hardly going to be asking those in front of the double Yakuza team. No, she happily took the cinnamon roll and raised it up to take a bite immediately. A bite would be a great way to take stock of the situation, figure out who might be recognizing Hazel rather than a waiter, look at her friends and signal them. Also it was a delicious cinnamon roll, this was definitely the best approach to the situation.

Except: the woman in the dress didn't take a pastry. She took a deerboy.

Typically, there's a decorum for a place like this. Guests are supposed to maintain respect for the staff. Because the staff are engaged in a performance. And it's a fun and lovely performance, but they can hardly manage that at either a physical or mental level if the guests are getting inappropriately handsy. That's a general sort of thing. Then there's the expression Hazel made. The expression that said that he did not in fact want this, that something was wrong here. Wrong well beyond merely grabbing someone inappropriately. Wrong in the sort of magical way that says that a person is being...violated? Yes, if you asked Yuki to describe it later, she'd say this crossed into violated in a sense.

She's not actively thinking in this moment though. Thinking is for later. Right now, Yuki is up, her tail flicked up and out for balance, her legs springing her forward, her arms held one fist above the other as though they're grasping an invisible handle in the air, her shoulders rotating.

You have to understand that if there's one core thing about Yuki, it's defending her friends. She's still thinking very hard about what she wants for herself. What a happy life looks like, how to keep all her friends together when they all have so many different and sometimes competing interests. That's hard, especially when her friends might be fighting with each other or hurt each other. But defending her friends from someone else. That's so easy. She will always defend her friends when they need it. She will leap to their defense immediately, she will go all out for them, she will give everything of herself for them. Every time without fail.

She's practiced this a thousand times. There may not be any heartblades on Earth, but Yuki knew the feel of hers from her last visit. She had imagined drawing it. She'd imagined her fencing footwork and how to hold her hands so that instead of thrusting with a foil she was cleaving with an axe. She'd done it in her mind lying in bed, she'd done it while stretching in slow motion, she'd done it in a mirror at full speed when nobody was watching.

The heartblade axe materializes in her hands in full swing, one hand at the base, one hand in the middle. Instead of slowing down, the weight of it adds to the momentum of her pivot, and the blade connects with Flower Yakuza at the same time as she's shifting her stance to go for Suli. The same time as Yuki catches that gleam in her eyes hiding behind the starglasses. The same time that it registers that she's using real flowers. Yuki's arms flex, and the blade connects hard. Flower may be strong and supernatural, but it's a hard thing to keep your balance when a full momentum axe rams into you above your center of mass. Flower's going over backwards, Sulochana is running forwards, Yuki is already leaping after her, powerful leopard legs balance by that extremely useful tail.

This all happens in a fraction of a second, even as a flash of light bursts from Hazel. Flower's going to get up and she's going to be mad. And god knows there's going to be consequences for all this. But that's for thinking about later. Now is for protecting her friends.

[Yuki rolls to fight. 4+2+1=7. She will create an opportunity for whichever of Sulochana or Hazel is more fitting for the scene through her prowess. And she will seize a superior position by dropping Flower with a heartblade axe blow, whether that's from the heartblade itself or the power of the hit even if Flower has some supernatural resistance. Flower gets to pick an option in return.]

Mayzie!

You duck into the midst of the melee before you really think about what you are doing. Your thoughts haven’t bothered trying to catch up, to explain that the reason you’re even working at the Chrysanthemum is because you can’t say no to an opportunity to help, because you can’t say no to a friend who needs you, because you’ve got to keep paying the rent, and how envious you are of Eclair leaving all this behind, how she left you behind— all this to say that you are acting on instinct and you will be angry at Eclair later for making this demand of you and not understanding why you would duck underneath a blow from a fighting woman in order to grab Eclair’s tablet and skid across the floor.

You get a round of applause and whistles from the crowd, who, like idiots, are assuming that this is some sort of incredible new experience from the Chrysanthemum. To be fair to them, Yaz has been funding pop-up scenes with actors in the corridors, but to be unfair to them, you are under no obligation to be fair. Idiots! Buffoons!

You uncouple the stylus from the tablet. Words are hard when you’re this worked up, so in your freehand you start stream-of-consciousnessing this. These two idiots are fighting. Why are they fighting? Probably because Eclair is a wanted criminal. She probably attacked the goddess because this Timtam dared her to or something. They’re still doing fight things. This Handmaiden should have a better outfit.

Outfit. Yes. Something with lots of tassels that flow from the sleeves. Make her look like a hawk, like a soaring dragon, and cut the skirt into sections that would flow around her like this…

There’s room enough in the notepad program for you to start sketching. You definitely are going to miss writing some of this down.

---

Yuki!

The noise behind you is a roar. It rattles the floorboards. It is a physical feeling of sound, wet and overwhelming and furious. You have done something which you should not have done.

Luckily, the Fellowship of the Deerboy is going to buy you time. Time to get close to this woman who’s…

Radiant?

---

Hazel!

She drinks your light, this woman. It soaks into her, makes her skin radiant where the lantern lights shine down on her, and with a delighted groan she accepts what you have given her. Her grip is so tight.

“Pure,” she murmurs, giddily. “Pure and bright and soaked. Your light is beautiful, Golden Faun, and it is striving, growing, shaking, verdant light.”

When she laughs, you can hear an echo of your laugh inside of it.

“Come with me,” she pleads, turning her full attention onto you like a hot lamp above butter. She is sweet and rich and floral, and she is full of wonder and joy and life. “I will show you fields of flowers— arboreal wonderlands— the end of death— I will make you the King of Thellamie— together we will transform this world~!”

“I don’t think so,” Princess Sulochana Arju says, wrapping her coils around you protectively and holding a heartblade to this woman’s chin.

Hooray! You have been saved(?).

Injimo!

The second that spear hits that teacup, Eclair knows that she just won the fight - and that the fight, paradoxically, just got much more dangerous.

Injimo's tactics have shifted so suddenly and decisively it's like she's a different person. That first attack was brash, proud, imperious - the strike of a hero. The moment it was countered that hero vanished, all of the pride and strength that infused it blowing away on the breeze. Injimo was so ready to accept defeat that the moment it appeared probable it was accepted as inevitable. And within the zen of her defeat she becomes a dangerous weapon indeed.

"Lace stance, thread weaving," said Injimo, mirroring Eclair's narration of her approach. She swishes the edge of her spear and it catches a thread of lightning like a crochet hook. When she traces it through the air the lightning web lingers in place, forming a dangerous barrier that can only be moved through at the cost of electrocution. "Begin encirclement, clutter possibility space, create cognitive load -"

She snap-lunged, a feint that left a searing arc of electricity crackling in the air between Eclair and the hole the Architect-Knight had left in the floor.

She wasn't fighting like an opponent any more. She was fighting like a teacher giving a test. Each move was made to force a new, different reaction. Her guard was so standard, without a hint of inspiration, that it could be defeated by any secret move - but in so doing force her opponent to reveal a secret move. She was not fighting to avoid pain, incidental damage or humiliation - she could be dissected in a thousand cheap shots - but her stamina was such that her opponent would be forced to get more and more creative with what they showed. She stubbornly refused to take any risks that might allow the fight to end more quickly, refused to lose her composure in a way that would make her concede early. Beating Injimo was easy, beating Injimo without putting all of your cards on the table was hard.

"Doesn't matter what I'm into," she said, answering the question at last as she wrapped one strand of lightning around another, tangling them into a knot. "My job is just to keep you busy."

[Creating an opportunity for someone else]

"On the contrary I believe it matters a lot. Your motivations, rather. If your fetishes are too embarrassing to discuss I am not so crass as to force them out of you."

Three steps forward, no weapon drawn. Reach with left hand and grasp at lightning barrier. Flinch away, observe smoke wafting from palm. Blow twice to cool, shake loose until pain ebbs. Retreat three steps, turning back to opponent. Wait, is this out loud again? Turn head, turn head, turn head. Null reaction. Oh, excellent.

"Your earlier strike recalls a previous assassin, erm, ah," she snaps her fingers, willing the name to come forth, "Hm, I seem to have forgotten her name. No matter. When she made her strike it was quite clear she was someone for whom combat was some form of pleasure seeking. This, however..."

Eclair pulls out a talisman and places it on the surface of a dining table. Tactical assessment: this is an information gathering technique. Its sole purpose is the acquisition of battle intel. Therefore:

She mutters a rather ponderous incantation under her breath. In a puff of comical, cartoony smoke, she summons a new requisition from the Manor: a full-service tea set, with steaming kettle, fine china depicting snow falling on a mountaintop on the side of each cup, a truly impressive array of different tea leaves (plus a jar of sugar cubes, a small pitcher of cream, blackcurrant jam, a special flowerless honey native to Vespergift, and a small sand hourglass), and a tray of madeleines and assorted financiers topped with fresh fruit. She carefully assembles a blend of various tea leaves into three strainers and pours the water through those and into three cups. She flips the timer over with her tail as she works, and hovers over the table with only one eye turned toward Injimo.

"What is the point of this? What is the motivation? You are in the role of the aggressor, here. In that capacity I would happily have guided you outside where we might safely tilt until you come to the proper conclusion about our respective skill levels, but what you're doing here instead is a bother to the poor waitstaff, who can no longer complete this dinner service with your barrier technique blocking the main thoroughfare. Kindly stop it at once. If I am not fending you off you can plainly see there is no need to 'keep me busy'."

The sand runs out. As the last grains are falling Eclair is already lifting the strainers free and setting them to one side hanging over a small tray. She adds three cubes of sugar to the first cup, and follows it with cream. The second she stirs both the honey and the jam into, and the third she leaves black. The first cup, she sets in its saucer and places it along with a plate of four confections in front of Mayzie. The second she leaves where it is, and pushes the plain cup and its associated cookies in the direction of Injimo. Then she sits, and takes a quiet sip for herself. The refinement of the moment is broken only slightly when she has to wipe at her eyes again.

"If your goal is simply to divert me into a second assailant's trap, you may accomplish this by answering my questions. To begin with, who put you up to this? Timtam's games and fake wanted posters are enough to draw the attention of an idiot like what's-her-face, the large boulder the size of a small boulder, but you are a member of Princess Heron's retinue. She couldn't have tricked the legendary heroine. Did you get fired? A pay cut? Are you desperate and moonlighting as a freelancer? Is that what's happening here? As ever, the only unacceptable answers are lies."

A slight color rises on her cheeks. Eclair's fingers reach for the space where her notebook pocket should be, on reflex. But as she left it with her uniform and her armor back in her room, her hand closes only on empty air.

"Oh. Um. And, M-Mayzie, this is witness testimony so could you please write her answers in purple in case she turns out to be a culprit?"

These were the rules of the mystery game the two of them played as children. Eclair played it still. Her cheeks burn hotter still, and she dips a madeleine into her tea to distract from that. Her eyes are fixated on her assassin/witness/rude-guest-who-will-not-drink-her-tea.

Oh. O-oh. Oh. Oh. Ohm. Hum. Hmr. Oh. Ah. Um. Oh. oh.

It

It’s, okay, um

Okay. So. It turns out? Voices like that. Hit a little. Different, when they’re pointed at you. Directly at you. For you.

Somebody really should stop this room from swaying. That feels like a safety hazard?

He opens his mouth. He closes his mouth. There were supposed to be words in between. There didn’t seem to be any? That’s weird. He should try again. No? Still nothing? That’s no good. Try again. Better, this time.

“I…I don’tt…”

Whoops that’s all he can say because she’s laughing again, she’s laughing again, and it’s not a mean laugh, it’s, gosh, it’s, why is he smiling too?! Gosh! Laughing! Happy laughing? With him?! And it is not helping the whole, the whole, thinking straight, thing, which is very important because, because she knows he’s the Golden Faun, and that means she is hunting him. He is being hunted, right now. And. And. So he needs to take a deep breath and ohhhh nno no no no bad wait oh no the perfume’s so much stronger nowwwwwwngnghghhghh come on come on come on he-

Well.

Hrm.

He seems to be completely surrounded by coils now.

Neat.

Cutie does not scream. Cutie does not yelp. Cutie does not look at the colorful and elegant Nagi who is coiled all around him and squeezing him tight until the room stops swaying and holding a heartblade to this other pretty lady’s chin in his defense. Nope. He does not do a one of those things. You see, he is a very sensible fellow, and a sensible fellow would, in a sticky situation like this, draw his heartblade and join the fight.

He just has to-

If he could-

With a little wiggling he surely-

And a tug and a two and a-

“Um. Shouldn’t I have my arms free for this? Anyone?”

He speaks at a very sensible volume. Hopefully somebody heard it.

Oh no. Oh no. Suli’s done everything right, but she set this up as a standoff. She’s too kind by half. Maybe this is a sign she’d make a good queen of light. It speaks well of her that faced with this sudden turn of events (the real Hazel! Two dangerous plant people!) that instead of merely stabbing as Yuki had done, Suli had gone for the standoff and the demand to release Hazel. Perhaps she imagined that the radiant one was the most important, and so a threat to drop her with a heartblade to the throat would be enough not only to get her to let Hazel go, but would also be understood by flower one Yuki had knocked down as reason not to attack. And then they could back off slowly with Hazel.

But Suli hadn’t thought this through all the way. Back off to where exactly? The flower couple had been trying to make this quiet and maybe if left alone they would have simply walked out with Hazel while making it look like he’d walked out to take a break. But now there had been a fight. If the Fellowship left with Hazel, they’d be the ones kidnapping Chrysanthemum staff, so they were hardly going to be able to run back to their rooms. Maybe straight to the road out of Vespergift and hope to reach Crevas without violence? But if so, Suli needed to be moving already, not setting up for a standoff. And that, of course, wasn’t accounting for the extremely loud roar and rumble that was happening directly behind them that Yuki suspected was going to be an extreme problem for a standoff situation the second she turned around.

But. But, well, Suli had pulled Hazel into her coils and now they had to be careful not to rip his arm off. Damn it. If Yuki just slashed at radiant plant girl and hit the arm, would it go dead and drop or would it go dead and the grip would lock in place? Too unreliable. Plus she might hit Suli or Hazel if she went in for a second big axe chop with her full sprint momentum as she jumped over the table (carefully dodging the platter of cinnamoon rolls, which remain pristine except for the one she dropped as she clears them by a scant inch).

Instead, she lands, thrusts her heartblade into the ground as a pivot, and turns all of her momentum into a full body kick into radiant plantgirl’s elbow, breaking her grip on Hazel’s wrist completely and sending her reeling back from the impact and the loss of balance of pulling on Hazel. A shudder runs through her as her foot touches the hand, memories of a glowing sword and starlight from years prior. Starlight that she misses dearly, but that isn’t for her.

But, there’s no time for that, no time for anything. She gives Suli a nod and sets her own feet in front of Suli and a now fully encoiled Hazel, bringing her axe up level and pointed out, hopefully so that she can keep track of both radiant and flower at the same time as everything comes crashing in on them. They’ll have to go through Yuki first.

And…if she’s still standing afterwards, she’ll try her best to persuade Suli to gently put down the deerboy because they’ve finished defending him and nobody wants to kidnap an actively working member of the waitstaff of a Chrysanthemum host club. Right?

[Yuki rolls to defy disaster with daring, 5+4+1=10. She risked all her advantage from running in, but managed to do it with aplomb.]